


I'll be home with you, I'll be home with you

by CryptidPrynt



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Reunions, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Telepathic Communication, Telepathy, but only a little bit i promise, i may have overestimated the size of wheat stalks. just suspend your knowledge here okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptidPrynt/pseuds/CryptidPrynt
Summary: A gentle breeze blows through tall wheat stalks, a quiet hush to the world. The sun shines, and Breekon feels warm.
Relationships: Stranger Entity Breekon & Stranger Entity Hope (The Magnus Archives), Stranger Entity Breekon/Stranger Entity Hope (The Magnus Archives)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31





	I'll be home with you, I'll be home with you

**Author's Note:**

> this is like two weeks late but I've been grieving him leave me be

A gentle breeze blows through tall wheat stalks, a quiet hush to the world. The sun shines, and Breekon feels warm.  
He hurts. His body aches and he lays still, feeling the warmth. It hurts too much to think, his entire body throbbing for a reason he can not yet place. The breeze cools him slightly, and he suddenly realizes he is warm. He does not recall feeling warmth in a very long time.  
After a few minutes of lying still, he twitches. His head pounds and radio static drones in the back of his mind. Breekon struggles to open his eyes. Everything is bright and blurry, painful to look at. The breeze eases the aching, and he forces himself to focus on its gentleness.  
A few moments pass and Breekon is able to muster up the strength to move. It hurts and he is slow, but he gently props himself up on his elbows, eyes closed and heaving hard.

He stabilizes himself with both palms pressed against the ground. The dirt is soft, and the wheat stalks underneath him yield to his weight. He can not yet bring his head to look around, so he tries to think.  
There is a heavy weight on his conscience. It is stagnant and comforting, almost familiar. It feels safe. It sounds, at first, like white noise. It rises and falls slightly, like a slow heartbeat. It gets louder, then quieter, then louder, and Breekon is able to focus on its rhythm for a few moments. The thrumming soothes his pain the more he focuses, and he is able to raise his head.

Breekon looks in front of him to see bright yellow wheat circling him. The flattened clearing he lay in is wide, looking almost like a crop circle. The color hurts his eyes, but he looks around. There's... A sky. There are clouds and a sun. Breekon stares in awe at what he could only consider a fond memory brought back to reality. He can not remember the last time there was a sky, not clearly. He feels the dirt, cold and soft, digging his fingers into it. He does not remember the last time he felt dirt. It's overwhelming, and he leans back into the white noise.  
It presses on his conscience, and it lightens. But as it goes, it becomes irregular. The sound feels like a blanket, comforting Breekon, and muffling a voice. It cuts dimly through the static, and Breekon feels like he's being called. There are no legible words, no definitive voice he can recognize, yet it is calling to him. He tries to think, to cut through the noise, to put a name to the weight in his mind. Scattered words and blurry images build up, none of which his own, and the voice sounds clearer.  
It calls his name repeatedly. It sounds frantic, nervous, desperate for a reply. It calls louder, it's voice scratchy and deep. Breekon knows this voice, he knows it better than the back of his hand.  
He shifts himself to sit on his legs, and he tries to think back to the voice in his head. He thinks of the name of the being it belongs to, and it slips out of his mouth like a quiet prayer.  
"H...Hope...?" He breathes, willing it to communicate.  
"Breekon?" He hears in his mind, cutting through the static like a knife, lifting a thousand-ton weight off of his chest. "Breekon, please."  
"Oh... Oh, darling..." Breekon heaves. A smile stretches across his face and tears prickle behind his eyes. He cannot remember the last time he smiled. There is a general direction in which he feels the voice comes from, and Breekon begins to rise, only to have his legs give out underneath him immediately.  
"Don't move," says the voice in his head. "I'll come to you"

Breekon is overcome with emotions at once. He does not remember the last time he felt so overwhelmed so positively. He weeps, gripping the flattened earth beneath him. Hope seemed at this point like a fond memory, rather than the love of his life. He felt like a distant dream, never again obtainable. He coos to Breekon gently, asking if he's alright, saying he will find him, repeating "I love you" over and over and over again. Breekon cries.

There is crashing ahead of him, frantic smacking of wheat stalks and heavy breathing getting closer and closer. Breekon raises his head just as Hope rushes into the clearing.  
Their eyes lock, and all at once Breekon feels cured. There is no pain, there is no misery, there is only Hope standing before him. Within a split-second, Breekon analyzes his face, remembering all the details of the one he loves. He remembers the pale blonde of his hair, and the way it curled around his ears and into his eyes. He remembers the faded scars scattered across his face and arms and where they came from. He remembers the sharpness of his teeth and his wide, beautiful smile. He remembers his eyes, a balance of murderous and loving, a brown so dark it looked like charcoal yet they glowed copper in the sunlight. He remembers his voice, harsh and scratchy, low and growling, yet so sweet and quiet in their own company. He remembers his laugh, loud and boisterous, music to his ears. Breekon remembers Hope, his memory now clear in front of him, and he feels cured.

The split-second passes and Hope approaches him slowly. Standing in front of Breekon, he suddenly falls to his knee, and without a second thought they throw their arms around each other.  
A feeling of safety washes over them, and they weep into the other's shoulder. They cannot remember the last time they felt such safety. Gentle 'Hello's are exchanged, along with a million more 'I love you's. They are able to drown in each other's presence for the first time in years. Hope leans back after a minute to wipe the tears off of Breekon's face.  
"Are you alright?" he whispers, rubbing Breekon's cheekbones with his thumbs.  
"I'm alright now." He whispers back.  
"How'd it happen?"  
"It, um..." Breekon stammers at first, sniffling and readjusting his grip on Hope. "The Archivist... it was The Archivist." he says, and Hope pauses.  
"He hurt you?" Hope says, his voice low and suddenly unnerving.  
"More of a favor than anything, really," Breekon says with a chuckle. "Doesn't hurt anymore."  
Hope relaxes. What fate befell his soulmate doesn't matter now. He is here, and they are together. 

He gently presses their foreheads together, moving to sit on both legs. They allow themselves this quiet moment, drinking in the overlapping sensation of the other's conscience. Their thoughts swirl around each other's minds, getting familiar again, getting comfortable. They exchange stories, flashing images of lone car rides and hospitals, images of wandering wheat fields and unknown country. They share feelings of fear, of loneliness, of anticipation. It's been too long without each other.

Hope opens his eyes slightly to see the ring he's been missing hanging around Breekon's neck, and he reaches for it.  
"Was wondering where this went," He says, smiling. "I'd quite like it back."  
Breekon smiles and reaches behind his head. He unties the string and slips off the ring. Taking Hope's hand, he slips the gold ring onto his finger. They look into each other's eyes and break into giggles, all seriousness of the situation lost. Their foreheads bump together, and they laugh to themselves for a few minutes. There is a weight off their chests, and they feel whole again. The laughter dies down and they sit quietly again, breathing each other in. The breeze that blows against them is comforting and real.  
Breekon leans back and opens his eyes. He stares at his other half, taking in everything he's missed so much. Hope stares back, realizing how much Breekon has changed.  
 _"Look at you..."_ Hope thinks to his partner. He looks older and more tired, dark circles shadowing the corner of his eyes. Hope reaches up to touch his hair, noticing how it's grown slightly, and how it even began to gray near his temples. Breekon did not intend to age without him, but the world made it so against his will. He has changed so much, yet Hope has stayed the same.  
Hope smiles, tucking the gray strands behind his ear and gliding his thumb along the outline of Breekon's ear.  
 _"Suits you, old man."_ Breekon huffs a little at that, but smiles.

 _"I missed you..."_ Breekon thinks to him, squeezing the hand he held in his lap. At that, Hope became teary-eyed yet again. Breekon reached up to hold his neck, leaning him forward. He tilted his head, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Hope giggled, moving his head for a proper kiss.  
_"I missed you too."_ He thinks back, and they sit there for several moments. The wind blows a soft hush through the wheat. They do not remember the last time they felt each other's lips.  
After a minute, they move back to holding each other again. The warm embrace of their other half is comforting, and they feel safe.

A gentle breeze blows through stalks of wheat, silencing the world for just the two of them. The sun shines, and Breekon and Hope are whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> theyre together finally but at the cost of my broken heart


End file.
